Silver Linings
by K.Wu
Summary: Charlie Fabray, now an adult, after so many years, once again experiences his Mother's (Quinn Fabray) storytelling. Quinn Fabray won't tell the stories of adventurers anymore though. The story this time starts with a death and ends with a death. However, out of all those deaths, there is always a silver lining: how in a bad situation, there is always some good in it.
1. Prolouge

**Prologue**

I wore a black suit and a white shirt, black tie, and black shoes; all polished and clean: clothes that might have been uncomfortable for me when I was a child all those years ago. I was old. I was getting old: brown hair slowly graying as the days go by. However, my appearance today gave me a sort of comfort against losing my youth; I had grown up. I had become more experienced with reality and the world that tries so hard to revolve around it. I have grown up.

"Well if it isn't Charles?" The old nurse said looking at me. I smiled.

"How are you, Mags?" I asked as I sign myself in.

"Oh, I'm quite well." Mags responded. "How are your siblings? Raiden came by a week ago, but I haven't seen much of Janice lately." I pursed my lip.

"Well," He started off. "You know Janice, busy bee that one: Broadway and all that." He said with a tinge of sadness.

"It's alright." She gave a small smile to the man. She had known that the arts were kind of a harsh topic for me. Seeing how I had grown up with siblings that possessed an artistic ability and were such successes, while my last two books had bombed and did not appeal to audiences. "Well, how have you been, Charles?"

"Quite well, I guess. The divorce is being finalized next week." I said calmly.

The nurse smiled sadly at me. "I hope everything turns out okay then."

"Me too." I whispered quietly as he walked into the familiar hallways. "Me too."

I walked through the familiar hallways of the care home. I greeted the workers I had met the several times I have visited. I adjusted the black rimmed glasses that hung on the bridge of my nose. Once I was faced with the door of room 113A, I took a breath and then knocked.

"Come in." The hoarse voice from inside said. I smiled and opened the door slowly.

When I walked into the room, I saw the owner of the voice; an elderly woman. She sat on a wooden chair in the corner of the room. She was not looking at me. The old woman wore a pair of reading glasses and was immersed in her book. It was Alice and Wonderland. A book she had read all throughout her life; it was her favorite. I only smiled at what was before me. I clearly remembered those nights as a child, when that story was being read.

"Hey Mom." Mother looked up and only smiled at me. She then looked back at her book and continued to read. I frowned and felt a sense of remorse. "Look," I said as I took a seat on the chair that was near her own. "I'm sorry I haven't been coming by. It's just that the divorce—"

"Charlie," The old woman called. My posture changed and straighten from the sound of my own name. She had put her book down on top the side table. I looked fearful at the old woman. Her hazel eyes were looking into the depths of my own dark brown pools. I knew from childhood experience that I was in trouble when my Mother used that tone with me. She pushed a strand of loose white hair—that was once blonde—aside. "Do you want to hear a story?"

I remembered when I was younger, and how my mother would always have me sit on her lap and tell me all kinds of stories. Stories from modern time travelers to madmen who sang songs and paraded around in the nude. She told me stories of paradoxes and fixed points; things that would happen no matter what. My mother told me all of the adventures and travels of Charlie Abel and the companions that came along. My mother was the greatest storyteller in my eyes. She would tell the stories as if she had lived and tasted it all. Those stories made my childhood a little less sad.I did not have a sad life though. I knew that my family loved me. While growing up, I had extended family: old friends of my parents. I had a happy childhood, a happy life.

I nodded and she smiled. "I don't remember if I have told you this particular story—with my age and all it's so hard to remember…" She said sadly. "Well, after Yale, I had become the actor and writer I always wanted to be. I had published my first book and became more known in the business, after just two years. That same year I had gone back to my hometown of Lima, Ohio.." She looked out her window; the sudden pitter patters of rain stopped her from continuing.

"It's raining." I bluntly said.

"It was raining that day too." She piped up. However, I knew she only thinks it did because she could no longer remember if it actually did.

It maybe a depressing thought, but we won't remember what will happen today; we will forget. By the time I am my mother's age, I will forget today. There will be a day that I will no longer remember the stories of Charlie Abel, the time traveler, or the madmen who never looked decent while parading around. I will forget those summer nights as a child with my parents and my siblings with the stories. I will forget my firsts. I will forget my first friend, my first kiss, my first girlfriend, my first time, and my first love. I will forget the way her lips curved when she saw me. I will forget the glint in her eyes when she thought she had loved me. We will forget and it will be inevitable.

She was still fixed on the window. She stared at the raindrops; how it kissed the glass panes of the window, how a droplet collided with another and made an even bigger droplet. My mother was distant though. She was far off somewhere; or some time. She was still present in the room of her care home, but at the same time she wasn't.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I wore a black dress with a pair of black flats: clothes that I don't normally wear, however it was right for the occasion. I was wearing the right clothes for this day; this hard day. I had done what I needed to do this morning. I spoke the words that needed to be spoken. If I hadn't, those words would have never been heard by any living soul. Sadly, it would never be able to reach the ears of the original receiver that the words were intended for.

When I spoke, it was hard. It was hard not to break down into tears and sobbing fits. It was hard to say or hear his name. It was hard to look her in the eyes. If I were to, I would see how broken she was and I would break with her. It was hard not to look at those brown eyes that use to be so warm and happy; it was only filled with sadness now.

When the service was done, I got into my car and drove. I did not feel like I was ready to speak to her. I felt guilty as I drove farther and farther away from the place she stood. I drove, randomly, I had an hour to kill before I had to make an appearance and meet people I have not spoken to for several years.

I had no particular destination, but drove anyhow. I did not get lost driving. I had lived in the small town of Lima, Ohio for far too long to get lost. However, I did not live there anymore. I lived in California now. It was beautiful there, and it was far from Lima, very far. That was a great perk.

It was away from her; away from temptation. It was away from her so I did not have to worry about yelling from the top of the world that I was in love with her. That I loved that brunette. I loved her so much and sometimes I wished she knew. I know she couldn't know, because I am not her's and I will never be her's, for she is another's.

He made her so happy. I loved it when she smiled; he made her smile. Whenever her lips curved and her eyes beamed up at the man whenever they were together. They were in love and it would have been so selfish of me to shout my love for her. He made her so happy, so much happy.

Life and Death are not fair. Life throws things at you. She gives you hell and makes you work. However, she is able to give you the utmost beautiful things in the world. Death takes people away. She was selfish. Life loved the man who made her happy, and Death was in love with him too. Death took him away from Life and from her.

They were not together when he had died, but they were in love with each other. Very much in love, because she was a never ending sob, as if her life was gone. I could still hear her cries. Oh, how I wish I could make her feel that her life was not over just yet. She was still young, 25 years old. Her Broadway career had just launched. She had won several awards for her revival of Funny Girl as Fanny Brice. She had succeeded—if not exceeded—her dreams of her name in lights on Broadway.

About an hour of endless driving, I had decided to go to the post-Funeral reception and face everyone. I had not talked to certain people in such a long time. The reason being between purposely or because of my schedule. You can guess which reason was for her.

I drove my car onto the curb. I took a breath before getting out of the car. The cul-de-sac was practically filled with peoples' cars and rentals. I walked up the path towards the front door of the Hudson-Hummel home. I rang the doorbell. I did not wait long, because the woman I had been purposely not talking to with answered the door.

"Rachel." I gave the petite brunette a small smile.

Even though her eyes were red and puffy from crying at Finn's funeral—she would probably deny this if she ever found out I was thinking this—she was beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful. However, she no longer gave off the radiance of joy she always had. No glowing and loving brown eyes that beamed. No smiling lips that curved. She was at her worse right now, but she was still considered beautiful to me.

Rachel turned the gesture. "Quinn." She said and surprised me with a hug. My arms wrapped around her waist. "I'm glad you came." I felt her breath tickle my ear. I tighten my grip around her. I felt wetness hit my shoulder. She cried, but even if it was a small possibility, I could make it go away.

I was in an ocean, and I was drowning. Rachel Berry was that ocean, and I was drowning in a woman I have not spoken to in so long.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I held her and let her shed her tears. She was weeping. I didn't know exactly why she was. I held her though. I let her cry. "I'm so sorry." I said trying hard not to shed anymore tears. I had cried too much before I even stepped into Lima.

"Thanks for coming." She breathed out and let go of me. The warmth that she had enveloped my body in followed her. I nodded. I left her where she stood and went to converse with people I had not spoken to in years.

—

"Hey." I said and sat on the empty seat next to her. Some people had left already and it was just the people who he was the closest to; the glee club, the Hummels (including his Mother), and the two of us.

"I've only been to a few funerals." Rachel said. "One was my grandfather's, I was around twelve. He died of cancer. Another was a distant relative of my Daddy's, who had died from a genetic illness. The thought of having to bury someone I am—was so in love with had never crossed my mind."

I nodded. "There was a girl whom I befriended in college," I do not know why I started to tell Rachel about her, but I did and continued.

"I met her through her brother who was in my Drama class, during my junior year. The girl and I shared a passion for many things, especially for writing. She was majoring in English and hoped to have published her first novel once she graduated." I know Rachel was trying to think why I was telling her the story of some girl, while we were suppose to be sitting here grieving over a death. She had listened anyhow.

"She was on her way to her school's graduation when a semi-truck was going a little too fast. She had died in that car accident." Maybe I was telling Rachel because I was still grieving over someone who I had loved too. Maybe I was indirectly telling her that I understood what she was going through; the level of pain she was going through. "The authorities said it was an instant death, there was nothing anybody could have done to save her, but when did she transition from being alive to being dead?"

There was a long pause before she had ask, "When did Finn transition from being alive to being dead?"

"If I knew when her transition from being alive to being dead, I could probably know Finn's." I said. "But I don't. I don't know if it was when the airbag was ejected, or when the truck had hit her car. I don't know. I'll probably take that to my grave; the not knowing." There was another pause. My thoughts kept me company throughout the silence between us. However, there was the hushed roars of the people surrounding us, but it all drained around like white noise.

There is a thing I've realized when going to funerals; that there is a fine line between the living and the dead. You could say that that line was a silver lining; the light side being the living and the dark side being death, with the line in the middle that divided the two groups. In reality, anyone could say either or was the other: that the dark was the living and the light was death. Their reasoning being that being alive is facing pain and when a person dies a person is relieved of that pain.

"We all die, and we all end." She suddenly said. "Someday the people in this room will die and their own life will end. Someday I will die and my own life will end."

"We never actually end though." I said. "Our life may end, but things like funerals and memorials, keep a person's name alive." She turned towards me with an arched eyebrow. "Do you feel like he's still around when you know he's not?" I asked. She frowned, but nodded. "A person doesn't die once there body is six feet under the ground, they die when people stop saying their name." I placed my hand on her knee and squeezed it to comfort her. Then I got up from my seat and went into the kitchen to fetch another drink.

—

When it was time for me to leave, the glee kids all went home. Before I left, I had hugged her and she thanked me for talking to her. She said she needed that and I told her it was no problem.

"When do you leave?" She asked.

"Tuesday morning." I said. It was Sunday night. I glanced at the clock: it was a quarter to midnight.

"Can we talk catch up before you leave?" She asked quietly. I gave her a small smile and nodded.

We exchanged phone numbers and that was it for that night.

We ended up meeting up and grabbing coffee that Monday afternoon. We catched up with each other. I talked about my new book and my film roles. Rachel talked about New York and Broadway. She genuinely smiled for the first time that afternoon than within those couple of days, and I was happy for her.

I left Lima, Ohio the next morning.

Once I was back in California, I had gotten a call from that smiling girl from yesterday, and I knew she was no longer smiling like yesterday anymore.

"Quinn," Rachel cried through the phone. "I'm pregnant."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Rachel had been suffering from extreme nausea and cramps. Even during the funeral, she was suffering from illness. She thought it would just disappear in a week, but it obviously didn't. After I had left, her Dads took her to the hospital. The doctors did a few tests. When they got the results, that was when she had found out she was bearing a child, not just her child, but his child too.

She cried to me over the phone, and I could not do anything because she was all the way in Lima and I was here in California. Do you know how it feels to just stand there and watch somebody you love crash and burn? You're force to just stand aside; you can't do anything because you're too far? It feels like your heart is breaking every time you hear them cry through the phone. You just want to be by their side and whisper to them that it'll be alright and that they'll be okay. I can't be by her side because I'm 2,272 miles away from her.

Even though I was far away, I told her she was going to be okay—and I kept telling her that. In that moment, I did it to reassure her that everything would be okay. In away I also did it to reassure myself. In that moment, I may have disagreed with the thought but I was—I was scared too. She was scared because it was his child. I was scared because I cared for her so deeply that I could feel how scared she was; how she felt reflected upon me. We were scared.

I am in love with this woman who was sobbing to me over the phone. At some point in our lives, we fall in love with someone and if we stick around longer we see them at their darkest moments. Some may interpret this as Rachel Berry's darkest moment: when she found out she was pregnant with her now deceased ex-boyfriend's child. Others may argue that this was a great moment for her because she has a part of Finn with her now. She loved Finn—no argument there. But do those who think the latter, do they know how it's going to feel? To be reminded of someone you were so in love with that they were buried six feet under the ground. They may think they know, but they don't.

I did not know Rachel Berry was in Lima two weeks prior to the funeral. I did not know Rachel Berry and the late, Finn Hudson had an on-and-off relationship after college. I did not know they had unprotected sex a week prior to his death. I heard soft breathes and snores coming from the other line. Rachel had fallen asleep on the phone with me after she had vented to me how this could have happened.

I hung up on the line once I knew she was asleep. I then texted her to call me when she wakes up. I wanted her to get some rest. She has another life to take care of besides herself. I understood from my pregnancy with Beth about what it's like to be under so much stress with little rest.

Beth. School started back up weeks ago, she's in the third grade now; an eight year old. I'd get holiday and birthday cards from Shelby and Beth. As a Mother, that was the best decision I had made for my daughter. I was not ready to care for a child. I was a sophomore in high school for crying out loud. I wasn't ready to take care of a kid when I was still a kid myself. I will always love Beth.

I glanced at my phone screen for the time; it was getting late. I decided to skip dinner tonight and hit the hay already.

—

I woke up groggily to the unwanted sound of ringing. I felt disoriented, but I was able to answer my cellphone.

"He—Hello." I said in a raspy voice. I coughed. "Hello."

"Hey." The voice croaked out. It was Rachel.

"Hi." I said. I felt something wet on the side of my face. I touched it. It was drool. I cringed at myself for drooling. I used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe it off. I felt that it was a pretty good thing that she couldn't see me now. I looked absolutely disgusting in the mornings. Speaking of mornings, I scanned my room for any sense of the time.

On the far end of my room, sat a large digital clock; it read 4AM. I did the math in my head and it was 7AM there. If I do remember from high school, Rachel usually slept around 11PM and woke up at around 6AM, and considering that she fell asleep a lot later than usual, I wasn't really surprised that she called me right now. However, I was a little irked that I had only gotten a little less than 2-3 hours of sleep.

"Hey." She said again. "I'm awake now."

"Obviously." I chuckled. I could imagine the brunette wearing a small smile. There was a long pause and then a sigh. "Hey, I'm sorry for trying to make a joke. I was trying—"

"To make me feel better?" She finished. I nodded. I forgot she couldn't see that, so I replied with a yes. "Well, I don't think I'll feel better anytime soon." She sighed again. "With Finn.. And now this baby.. I—I just can't—" She started to sob again.

"You're going to be a great Mother." I bluntly said. "Rachel, you're a caring, loving, and compassionate person. You were able to befriend and band a whole group of misfits together in high school. You forgave all of us for treating you so badly. If you're able to forgive all those people who tormented you for four years, I think—no, I know you'll be a great Mom." Then came the second pause. "Rachel, you're amazing."

I could hear her breathing heavily. Inhale and exhale. "Thank you, Quinn. I think I really needed to hear that."

"Anytime." I said. "Really. I'm always here for you, Rach." I reassured her.

I heard her chuckle. "It's not Berry anymore? Or Man Hands? Or RuPaul?"

I felt nervous. I didn't mean those names. I never thought twice about things as a teenager. Now, I wish I had. I don't think I ever meant them. "Look, Rachel, I didn't mean it I was—"

"We were all kids, Quinn." She reassured me. "I've already forgiven you. A long time ago." I knew she did, but I have never quite forgiven myself for the name-calling or the bullying. "You were a different person then and you're a different person now. Okay?"

"You know exactly what to say." I said.

I couldn't see her smile, but I imagined Rachel Berry's lips curving to form such a simple yet beautiful feature. Did you know it makes less face muscles to smile, than it is to frown? Frowning takes 43 facial muscles, but it only takes 17 facial muscles to smile. Ergo, making smiling easier than frowning.

We talked for some time. We talked about the present and the past. However, I tried not to bring up the future. The topic was—I guess you could describe it as—"on edge." The fact is we don't know what's going to happen in the future, and I don't want us to talk about it in hopes or doubts of something we haven't experienced yet. It may or may not be easy or the best future, but I hope there will be for her, for the child, and for me.

We talked for half an hour more before she had to go and start packing for her trip back to New York. She was still in her first trimester and was safe to fly. However, she vented to me how her fathers were worried about her being pregnant in New York. I was worried too. She reassured me though that her roommate would help her.

After Kurt and Blaine got married during our sophomore year of college, Kurt moved out of the Bushwick apartment and went to live in Midtown. After reuniting with Brittany, Santana decided to pop the question and they were now engaged. They were set to be wed next year. Since one roommate moved out and both were hitched/going to be hitched, Rachel decided to get her own place. But because of the high prices of a New York apartment, she knew she wouldn't be able to pay for the apartment on her own, therefore she has a roommate.

Rachel's roommate was some dude named Tony. She didn't go into much detail about the guy. "I met Tones at an audition." She had an endearing nickname for the guy, where was my nickname? To say I was jealous, would be a yes. Tony got to see Rachel everyday. Tony got to help Rachel with the baby. Tony got to hold Rachel when she cried. Tony got to hold Rachel's hair back as she threw up from morning sickness. I shook my head. I was becoming paranoid of someone I had never met. I don't even know what the guy looked like. I scolded myself.

"Rachel doesn't even like you in that way, Fabray." I told my reflection. You don't even know if she's gay! On top of that the person she was in love with for so long just died and she is bearing his child! I internally scolded myself. I grumbled in frustration. Who am I kidding?

An insane idea popped into my head. It was one of those ideas that one could probably find in a very cliché movie. I grabbed my cellphone and called my Agent. "Hey Flynn!" I greeted. "So I was wondering if you could look into any productions in New York for me?"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Tip of the day: reviews make writers happy! :)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Next." Called the casting director. On the left of the casting director was the director. I walked into the plain white room. The one woman and two men sat on plastic chairs. Papers scattered the plastic table in front of them. Next to the director was another writer I had known all too well. It was her brother. The brother who was in my drama class, my junior year at Yale.

I didn't even know he was in California. The last time I had saw Julian was at the funeral. That was two years ago. He didn't look very different. Thin black spectacles now sat on the bridge of his nose. He was the same age as me—26 years old—but he looked a decade older. _If she was still here today, she'd be the same age as the two of us._ I thought. The glasses, the dark eye bags, and the beard made him look much older than he really was.

"Well," Julian said. "If it isn't Quinn Fabray." He smiled. The woman, who was the casting director, looked at us peculiarly. The man, the director, looked back and forth between us.

"Here I am." I said and smiled at Julian. _He still smiles like her._ I thought. We just stared at each other. Exchanging information without words. The three of us use to do that a lot, back in college. _Back when it was actually the three of us. _I felt sad at the thought. _It will never be the three of us ever again._

"May we please know how you two know each other?" The casting director asked, feeling the tension in the room.

"College." The two of us simultaneously.

"Did ya bang?" The director said, chucking. He was elbowed in the ribs by the woman sitting next to him.

"No, Stan." The writer said. I didn't know what we were. I haven't spoken to him—nor his family—in two years. "She's an old family friend." We shared a sad smile; knowing what that really meant.

"Now," He said, showing off his bright white smile to me. "Let's go on with your audition."

—

We've been calling each other almost everyday. Throughout this week, I've gotten a call from Rachel around 5pm (9pm, New York time). First, we would talk about our day—I'd talk about finishing up a guest star role or an audition. She would talk about her current role on Broadway—that she'll only have about 3 months in her role before her bump starts to show.

"How are you going to pay for everything?" I was concerned.

"Quinn," She said sternly. "May I remind you that I've worked eight shows a week—on Broadway—since my sophomore year of college?" _Guess who's stupid?_ I laughed nervously. "Yeah. I have enough to pay for my _half_ of the rent." She put an emphasis on the word half. I heard laughing in the background. I knew one was the brunette's, but the other was not familiar to my ears. _That must be Tony._ I thought. I bit the inside of cheek, in case I were to say something I didn't mean.

"Tony's been trying to pay the full rent." She told me "Which you shouldn't be doing, Tones!" I heard a voice, but it was too far away for me to interpret anything. They laughed again. "Just because the lease was under your name first, doesn't mean you own the place." Another laugh I did not cause was heard.

The BlackBerry, that was pressed on the side of my face, started to buzz. I looked at the screen. It was Flynn, my agent. "Hey Rach," I said. "I have to go." Her laughter stopped. I imagined the short girl pouting, as if someone had stolen her favorite doll. "My Agent's calling me. It's probably about that audition I was telling you about, earlier this week."

"That movie in New York?"

"Yeah." I confirmed. "Hey, I'll update you later. Okay?" She said okay. We said goodnight to each other. I called Flynn back.

"Hey Quinnie!" Flynn greeted. Ever since he heard my Mom call me that, that one time she visited, he's been calling me that ever since. It was annoying at first, but it has become a term of endearment.

"Flynn, what's going on?" I asked. He usually didn't call me after 5pm, in less it was important.

"Your buddy called me." He said. _Buddy?_ I thought.

"You mean, Julian…?"

"Uh-huh." He said with that attitude he has. "Thanks for not telling me you had a history with the writer!"

I shrugged and mockingly put my hands up in surrender (I did know he couldn't see me, but I did it anyhow). "You never asked."

"We could of gotten people hyped up on this movie and you!" He said. Flynn's goal as an agent (and my friend) is for me to be the top rookie actress I'm apparently meant to be. "Anyways, your buddy said he would have done this personally, but he didn't have your personal cell." Flynn said. "You, my dear Quinnie, got the part—"

"YES!" I yelled triumphantly.

"—As Blair Williams in the upcoming film adaption of J.A. Clark's _The Reasons_. Directed by Stanley Knight, who recently directed the successful and critically acclaimed movie _Raging Love_. Congrats Q!"

We discussed tomorrow's and this week's schedule. The press already have been notified, and the story should be everywhere by tomorrow morning. Tomorrow we were going to sign the contracts. The first table read may happen in two weeks or so, depending on how fast they can cast the rest. They apparently haven't found the opposite lead yet.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Flynn said. I greeted him goodnight.

Before I fell asleep, I sent Rachel a text.

**QUINN: It's probably 1AM there and I didn't want to call because you need your rest. Anyways, I didn't want you to find this out on the papers tomorrow morning: I got casted for the New York film. We go over the contracts tomorrow. I hope you're sleeping well. Goodnight, Rach xoxo**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Hey!" I called out. The raven haired girl turned around and saw me running towards her. She stopped and smiled at me. "Hey." I breathed out.

"Hey." She said and gave me a small smile.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

She shrugged. She held out her hand and I grabbed it. We continued walking hand in hand. After much time of walking aimlessly around the small park, she replied, "I don't really know." She swung our joined hands as we walked. Her thumb rubbed my knuckles in a circular pattern. "I'm graduating from my dream college, Q." She said aloud.

I smiled. "Again, congratulations!" I kissed her on the cheek and saw the corner of her lips start to form into a small smile. It was a good thing she was the same height as me. I saw a tinge of pink rush into her cheeks.

"Thank you." She said. I was not looking at her, but I felt her look at me. It was my turn to return the blush. "You know—You know how I feel about you, right?" I nodded. I was still not looking at her, because it felt too real.

We stopped walking. "Quinn, please look at me." I turned and look at the dark spheres that awaited for my hazel ones. Instead of the melancholy expression she had wore before, she now wore a smile. "Let's make a pact!" She spontaneously said with that bright white smile. "If you come to my graduation in December, I'll go to your's in June." She proposed. She released my hand and took out her pinkie. "Deal?" I smiled at the childish gesture.

I connected our pinkies. "Deal."

I shot up from my bed. "It was a dream." I bluntly said to the quiet darkness of my room. I ran my fingers through my hair. "Just a dream." I told myself. It wasn't a dream though. There was a point in my life where that moment was real; she was real. It had happened, but it didn't feel like it did. It felt so odd to hear that voice after so long.

I wiped the beads of sweat off my forehead. I looked around for a sense of time. There was a digital alarm clock that sat on my nightstand. It was still within the early hours of the morning. I frowned. I still had a few hours before I had to wake up and go to work. _By the time I get myself back to sleep I'd probably have to wake up._ I thought to myself and sighed. I laid back into the mattress and stared at the blank ceiling above me. _I could call Rachel._ I suggested to myself. _New York was three hours ahead. It would be around seven o'clock there._ Just to be safe, I had decided to text her that early morning.

My phone in hand, I texted away.

**QUINN: Hey. I can't go back to sleep, so I thought I'd just talk to you. I'm sorry if I just woken you up :(**

I got an immediate response.

**RACHEL: Good morning, Quinn! :) It's 7am here and I woke up not too long ago, so there's no trouble at all. I have an appointment with some people from the production later anyways. I'm sorry to hear that you could not go back to sleep. Did you know, that it's imperative of you get at least 7 hours of sleep a night?!**

**QUINN: Good I didn't wake you :) And yes I did.**

**RACHEL: May I ask why you aren't sleeping?**

**QUINN: Bad dreams.**

**RACHEL: Such a vague answer, Miss Fabray. Very mysterious.**

**QUINN: Rachel Berry teasing the teaser. Are you having a good morning?**

**RACHEL: Well, ever since a certain blonde texted me, yes I have been having quite a good morning :)**

My eyes widened at the last message. _What? Did Rachel Berry just flirt with me?_

**RACHEL: Seriously though, are you okay? Was the dream that bad?**

**QUINN: I don't want to put a damper on this wonderful morning you've been having…. Or the rest of your day.**

She didn't reply back. I had waited a few minutes for a response, but none came. Right when I thought I'd lost hope, my phone started to buzz. My display showed a picture of Rachel and I from one of the last times I had visited her, Santana, and Kurt in New York. I answered it.

"Sorry, I had to take care of some dishes." Rachel said. "So… Would you like to tell me what's going on in this bad dream of your's?"

"Well, remember after the service?" I asked. "When I started talking about my friend?" The caller on the other end became silent at the mention of the service. "We don't have to talk about this right now." I suggested. "I've got to wake up at—"

"No." She cut me off. "Tell me. Please tell me." She begged.

I sighed. "Fine. You remember that friend I was talking about, right?" I asked again. I took her silence as approval. "I had a dream about her and I. Well, it wasn't really a dream, because it had happened." She did not speak for a while. I could only hear her slow breathing.

"A flashback then?"

"Yeah." I simply replied.

"What happened?" She asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

I mustered whatever I felt comfortable talking about. "Before she died, we made a pact together." I chosen my words carefully. "We promised each other we'd go to each other's graduations."

"You two didn't go to the same college?" She asked warily.

I shook my head. "No. She went to this California State Polytechnic University." There was a pause. "She didn't keep her promise." I whispered out.

Once again there was silence. "Quinn," Rachel started off. "I have never met the acquaintance of your friend, but I'm sure she was absolutely wonderful."

I did not realize the tears streaking down my cheeks. I ran my fingers through my hair, out of stress. "I know." I announced sadly. I tried to wipe my tears away with the palms of my hands. "You know sometimes I wished she was still here so she could meet you, Rach. You two would of had non-stop conversations about Broadway." I suggested. I heard a small chuckle from the woman. "I remember when you debuted in that revival of Evita before we graduated. She wouldn't stop going on and on about you after we watched it." I bit my lip. I was caught.

"You were in New York?" She said outrageously. She had probably woken up Tony and her whole apartment complex.

"Yeah." I squeaked out.

"Well, thanks for letting me know, Fabray." She said sarcastically.

"I have some explaining to do when I get to New York, don't I?" I asked.

"Yup." The singer answered angrily.

"Nice to know." I don't know how this short girl could overpower what was leftover of the bitchy cheerleader from high school. "It's almost five here, Rach."

"I hope after this conversation that you get some sleep, Quinn." She said. "Sweet dreams."

"Have a wonderful morning, Rach."

"I will." The call disconnected.

I was again left to myself with the comfort of my bed and the quietness of my home. I eventually fell asleep that early morning and I did not receive another visit from my deceased love.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

I gazed out at the night sky from my window seat. I had chosen to take the nonstop flight from Los Angeles to New York. Before my acting career, I hated sitting in a plane for so long. Besides the fact that I barely traveled during those days, I absolutely dreaded the claustrophobic cabins and sitting next to someone I didn't know for several hours. Now though, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being away from the majority of the public that knew up-incoming actress, Quinn Fabray. I love whatever admirers I may have, but they don't really know the Quinn Fabray that shows up behind closed doors. I don't think much people know that girl, because sometimes I don't even know that girl.

I continued to stare out my window. I placed my focus upon the flashing green light that rapidly flashing; it was attached to the wing. I didn't know the purpose of such a nuisance. Maybe it was to single other planes in the atmosphere. Nonetheless, I didn't know what it was meant for—I still somehow found myself fixated at the small annoyance.

The light reminded me of the one in The Great Gatsby. In book, the first time Nick sees Gatsby was at the dock. He sees Gatsby staring at the green light across the water. Gatsby stretches out his arm and tries to reach for it. The green light represented Daisy and her and Gatsby's shared past. He wanted both, but he never got those two things.

What do I want though? What do I yearn for? Do I want to go back to the past? Back to a time where everything felt so simple?

Those thoughts ran through my mind as my eyelids softly closed. My body slowly shut down from exhaustion. The last thing I had saw was the flickering green light.

—

I readjusted myself so that my head laid on top of her chest. I felt her chest rise as she sighed deeply. "How did it get late so soon?" Her eyes weren't on any clock to get a sense of time. I looked up at her face. Her eyes seemed to be fixated at a certain point of the ceiling. However, from the spot of the bed I laid in I couldn't determine what she was exactly looking at.

An eyebrow raised, I wondered aloud, "What are you talking about? Was that even an actual question?" The early morning light had seeped through the blinds and had produced a sort of shadow on the ceiling. I followed her gaze to the plain white ceiling above us. I wanted to see what she saw.

The things she'd been saying, since the day I've met her, it all felt so beautiful. I wanted to know why it felt so appealing to me. Why was I so attracted to her words? Why was I attracted to her soothing voice? Why was I attracted to her jet-black hair? And her dark brown eyes? Why was I attracted to the way she perceived life? She looks at something and notices something else that no one else could ever possibly see. I wanted to see how she viewed the world. I wanted to see what she saw.

"Yes and no." She answered as if it was the most simple of questions. She was always like that—always vague. "That was a little quote from Dr. Seuss," I giggled at how she had quoted a children's author. Anybody else would probably smile if they were to see the grin she had displayed when she made me giggle. "And it just seemed fitting for tonight." She reminded sadly. I frowned. She had the power to turn a happy moment into a sad one.

"Quinn, I'm going back to Cali tonight." I knew. "You gotta drop me off at eight." She reminded me again. "My flight leaves at nine." Instead of dwelling on the latter fact though, the previous night, I had been trying to memorize every single curve of this woman next to me. Every inch of skin, every little beauty mark, every scar, and every tattoo. She had many tattoos. Some were sad, others were happy, but all had a meaning.

On her left bicep, sat a small black X. A person would have to be as close as me in order to get a good look at it—it was that small. She had told me that it was for the roman numeral ten. When she got angry as a teenager, she'd count down to ten in order to calm down. She described her adolescent self as an angry and frustrated soul. She told me a story about how she once had this big angry fit when her brother wanted to borrow her Walkman.

"I'll be back in New Haven by the end of the month as always," She had said this every time she had left. I wished she didn't have to though. It makes me realize how much more time is left before I watch her fly back. "Okay?"

My interest was not at our conversation at the moment. My hand ghosted over the exquisite black script that had caught my attention last night. It was placed by her left breast, on top of her rib cage. It said: _Very Beautiful_. My fingers danced over the tattoo. She must of noticed my fascination of the body art because she explained that, "It's a reference to Thomas Edison's last words."

"_It's very beautiful over there._" She quoted.

"Why'd you get it?" I had asked. My forefinger was now tracing the cursive words.

I looked up and saw her brown eyes looking at me. She had beautiful brown eyes. The kind you could get lost in. I guess I had gotten lost because I never got to find out what that tattoo meant that night.

—

"Excuse me, ma'am." I awoke with a start. My eyes wide and alert. I looked up to see that a flight attendant had woken me up. "We've landed already." I looked around and saw that majority of the passengers had left already.

"Thank you." I mustered. My voice sounded very hoarse. I coughed. I gathered my carry-on. Once I had gotten out of the plane, I turned on my phone. It immediately started to ring. The display lit up with the name I loved and the face I also loved. "Hey Rach!" I greeted. "I just landed."

"Great!" She said. "Are you at baggage claim yet?"

"I'm on my way there right now." I answered. I was at the baggage claim now. "Where are you?" I tried looking around for the short brunette. I couldn't even spot my luggage on the carousel.

"I'm right here." I heard a familiar voice announce. I spun around and found myself face to face with a beautiful pair of brown eyes. The owner of those eyes and I were soon engaged in a tight embrace. My face in her brown tresses. I could feel her small baby bump kiss my stomach. She had then released herself from our little hug.

"Welcome to New York!" Rachel greeted with a bright smile. I smiled back with an equal amount of happiness.

Rachel had smiled more that afternoon, then when she did the last time I had seen her. And it was beautiful. Very beautiful. Rachel Berry is so very beautiful.


End file.
